* This Close to Gilles *
by Roy Glikin ~ February 1998
Hard to believe now, but there was a time when Gilles Villeneuve was nobody. He became somebody to different people at different times. I expect there is someone out there today who is just getting the word about the World Champion's father.
I remember catching "la febbre Villeneuve." It was the race report covering the 1976 Trois-Rivieres Formula Atlantic "invitational, " after which soon-to-be World Champion James Hunt returned to England and said to his McLaren bosses "Sign this guy up." It was not just that word was getting out of an extraordinary new driver, but a new driver from small-town Quebec! Who lived in a trailer! A working class man! A snowmobile racer! Going to Formula One! Completely unheard of, it just didn't happen. What would happen next?
Lucky for Gilles, McLaren, a team on its way down, eventually passed on their option. Lucky, because Ferrari, a team with a few years left at the top was scouting young talent. At different times in this period, Eddie Cheever, Elio deAngelis and Gilles each tested at Fiorano. It was Villeneuve who landed the race seat.
In the days before comprehensive TV coverage, what you knew about a Grand Prix was what made it to the race report. In the pages of Motorsport and Autosport, or Road & Track, the new Ferrari driver seemed always to be a thread in the story of each race. More interesting, there always seemed to be one, or two - three - of the little Canadian with arrows on the
sides of his helmet. It slowly dawned on you, there were many pictures of Gilles because many photographers held their breath, saved their film, waiting lap after lap, to train their zoom lenses on that Ferrari, hoping to capture the magic which flew past their eyes. Magic that popped off the page and into the imagination.
"La febbre Villeneuve" was the catch phrase on a little sticker appearing as a giveaway in the Italian racing magazine Autosprint during the famous summer of 1979 when Gilles was the hare to Jody Scheckter's tortoise in Ferrari's lunge for the World Championship. It was expected that 1980 would be Villeneuve's year. Unfortunately, Ferrari neatly shot itself in the foot by managing to produce a new car slower than the old one. In this, the heyday of ground effects, the 312T5 was crippled by an
inadequate chassis, a flat 12 boxer engine which reduced the available venturi area and a completely ineffective skirting system. Worse, with so much less downforce than its rivals, the tires Michelin provided were far too hard and never came up to proper operating temperature. Gilles did try, filling the magazines with pictures of a 312T5 at impossible angles of attack.
The 1980 United States Grand Prix at Watkins Glen was the last race of this miserable Ferrari season. Light at the end of the tunnel existed in the form of the new Ferrari turbocar, the 126C, which practised at Monza, but was considered too fragile - sorry, "too much of a logistical problem," to be sent to North America. Williams' Alan Jones had clinched the championship in Canada two weeks before, by punting off his only remaining rival, Brabham's Nelson Piquet, at the first corner. Bruno Giacomelli took pole position at the Glen for Alfa Romeo. I was there with a press pass. Strange days.
The summer before I had met some radio journalists through my family in Argentina. These Argentine radio journalists remembered three things about me - I knew alot about F1, I could jump from speaking Spanish to English easily, I lived in New York. There hatched the plan to invite me to Watkins Glen and have me translate their Spanish questions to the English-speaking F1 people and answer back in Spanish the English response. This is how I came to be standing in the pitlane interviewing the Playboy Playmate of the Year, who was driving in the Toyota celebrity race. She was my first interview. Winner of the celebrity race? An eighteen year-old Michael Andretti, who to my knowledge has not appeared naked in a
magazine.
Argentine radio journalists - and I mean no offense by saying this - are about as low in the Grand Prix journalistic pecking order as possible. Surprisingly, everybody was invariably generous with their time and granted us interviews. For example, I had a nice chat with Alan Jones, who really couldn't have cared less. More exasperating were my partners. "Are we going to talk to Mario Andretti?" I asked.
"No. What did he do this year?" was the answer.
Sometimes, I could convince them, "Do you want to talk to him?"
"Who's that?"
"Gordon Murray, he designs the Brabham. You can ask him about testing the BMW turbo."
"Oh, right. OK let's go." I wound up talking to Jody Scheckter because he was sitting outside the garage by himself staring into space and I struck up a conversation. My journo buddies weren't even with me. This is a long way of saying we never talked to Gilles Villeneuve. Even on the basis of asking about the 126C, Playboy bunnies or how long he thought it would be before his son was winning celebrity races. Nor did I walk over and strike up a conversation. I was in total awe. "That's Villeneuve! Right there! Talking! Wow! - What? Do we have to talk to Alan Jones again? Sigh ..."
Somehow a camera gave the proper distance and pictures of Gilles I have. The first pit box on entering pit lane from the press room was that of Ferrari #2. Every walk into and out of the pits brought me past the Villeneuve Ferrari and whatever was going on. In my first walk onto pitlane Gilles taught me an important lesson by igniting his boxer 12 - BRoo,ROOOM!
- right in my ear sending me running back to get those freebie earplugs which came in the press kit.
Later on, it was the sound of Gilles switching off his engine which caught my attention. I wasn't looking but turned to watch the silence as Villeneuve lost the 312T5 at the 90 corner and had the Ferrari doing a fine imitation of a leaf blower before clouting the guardrail side on. True to legend he popped out of the cockpit and ran across the road to the pits. He jumped directly into the spare Ferrari, which the mechanics had begun wheeling out cued by the sound of the prime Ferrari going "crump!" almost
directly opposite to them.
Come the race, Giacomelli's Alfa disappeared into the distance (really), Alan Jones fell off the road at the first corner of the first lap rejoining in 12th. Eventually, Jones worked his way back up to second and poor Bruno had his electrics pack up, coasting to a stop very far way from the pits. This handed the victory to Alan Jones and (sigh) we interviewed him one more time. And Gilles? He retired with 10 laps to go of self-inflicted suspension damage.
Jody Scheckter, finishing 11th, was greeted in the pits by champagne-spraying mechanics and he exited the cockpit over the nose of the car. Both were a great surprise to me, standing in front of his car which is usually completely out of the way. This time, I was bumped into by Jody looking for a place to land and splashed with champagne. Never did speak to Gilles.
Flash forward to the CART race, New Hampshire 1995, where I was in the paddock determined to say hello to Jacques Villeneuve, who it had just been announced would join Williams in F1 for 1996. Sure enough, he came out surrounded by a huge crowd, but kindly signed my program and I got to wish him "Bonne chance." Nice boy. Done rather well, too.
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